Chapter Three

“It’s
not his style.He’s quite reliable.Fun to be around, but certainly not
dramatic.”

“Maybe
he just snapped.”

“Too
easy.Ryan doesn’t just snap.”

“But
Shaun is inoffensive.”

“Was
inoffensive.”

“I
didn’t want to hear that.”

“I
don’t think people do ‘just snap’ full stop, you know.”

“No,
they just shoot their mates.”

The
stilted conversation had bounced between Ripley and Barry as they stormed down
the motorway, paying less attention to road rules than Denise and Rachel were,
exchanging rhetoric and confusion.Both
were asking meaningless questions, oblivious to any semblance of truth.When two friends fell out it was often
difficult to take a side, but when one killed another it was hard to know how
to react, let alone who to pledge allegiance to.They talked to paper over the silences, and
hoped that talking would somehow allow for a fragment of understanding to sneak
through.At some point one of them would
talk a bit of sense.

“They
were in the pub together on Thursday,” Barry pointed out.

“I’m
trying to recall tension.”

“This
is a bit more than tension.”

“I
know that, you moron,” Ripley said.“I’m
just trying to sort this out.Of all the
things I could possibly have written about, even I couldn’t have created this.”

“There
really is no way that this could be a joke is there?”

Ripley
didn’t even bother replying.He was
compiling memories of Shaun, trying to work how he would remember him in the
future. The papers would earmark him as
tragic and that would be how the rest of the world saw him, but Ripley wanted
to eulogise about the first friend he had lost.Although not brave enough to admit it, he had a sense of existing that
he hadn’t felt in some time.This was
something real – it was living.It
wasn’t day-to-day, nor was it an enviable position to be in right now, but
there was a sense of importance attached to being involved with something that
usually happened to other people.

Even
further away from his soon to be public sense of grief (once the shock had
subsided and reflection gave him time to grieve), it crossed Ripley’s mind that
tonight could have an immense effect on his life aspirations.The media was involved already, and no doubt
they’d be wanting to talk to him at some point, and Ripley knew that this could
lead to contacts.Ripley thought all of
the things that he wasn’t allowed to express.When tragedy struck, you weren’t allowed to be openly selfish,
admonishing any personal consideration and trying to apply yourself to the
situation at hand.Right now, he wasn’t
allowed to think that all this would make breaking up with Faye seem less
important.He also wasn’t allowed to
think that being part of this would actually be really interesting.And he certainly wasn’t allowed to ponder
which one of his friends he would rather have been shot tonight - Lucinda,
incidentally.All of this you kept to
yourself for eternity – there were social norms in place and death was not the
place to breach them.Tact and diplomacy
were everything.

“He’s
dead,” Barry murmured.It was stating
the obvious, but it came to everyone at some point.The snap of realisation once the shock had
subsided.They had lost a friend
tonight.“He’s fucking dead.Shaun.Fucking Shaun.What the fuck is
going on?Why the fuck would Ryan shoot
Shaun?”

“I
presume by now that you’re not expecting answers from me.”

“Priceless
as you think you are, Ripley, even you couldn’t come up with an articulate
explanation right now.”

“Then
maybe you could stop asking inane propositions.”

“I’m
just trying to make things work in my head, okay?I’m not very good at this.I took two days off work when my dog died.”

“Sorry.I’m pretty shit at this as well.”

“It
just ain’t right.It’s like a dream or
something.”

I
could have articulated something better than that, Ripley thought, but kept
that with his other banned musings.He
would have to try and recapture them all on paper soon.Once the hollow feeling had departed, and when
he could respond properly to what was going on ahead of him.He couldn’t envision Shaun as anything but
alive, so vivid was the memory of him.And Barry was right - it was like they were dreaming.There was no other way to put it.

“Then
I’d really like to wake up.”

There
was a ten minute pause as both were lost for words.Ripley desperately wanted to know what to do,
despising the feeling of having no control. Barry hoped that his pragmatic side
would not fail him on this occasion.The
world didn’t seem to exist outside of Ripley’s car and beyond this
situation.Hours ago, Ripley had been
preparing to break Faye’s heart – now she paled into insignificance, possibly
her biggest fear.They both wished for
something else to think about, but there was nothing.Surprisingly for both of them, it was Barry
who started to rationalise first.

“We’re
going to have to split up when we get down there.”

“Why?”

“Well
two of our friends are there and they’re both in different places.”

“Good
point,” it sounded so clinical.

“But
whichever one we go to, doesn’t mean we’ve taken a side,” Barry affirmed and
Ripley nodded his agreement.